Molly's Red Lipstick
by Imogen74
Summary: Irene Adler has returned, & Molly must deal with her insecurities. Sequel to Revelations. M, because I have no idea what those other letters mean. Established Sherlolly.
1. Chapter 1

Sequel! Response was favorable for "Revelations," so I thought I'd try my hand at a sequel to it. I've never written Irene Adler before, so bear with me here...

It had been a long journey. She had travelled for a long while, in many modes of transport to finally reach London. She got into the cab at Heathrow, not certain where she was going. Hotel. Yes. That's best.

News of Magnussen's death was slow to reach her ears. When she discovered he was dead, & who had killed him, she thought it the perfect opportunity to return home. How wonderfully diverting a visit with Sherlock Holmes would be.

When she met him, she knew he was a virgin. It was her business to notice such things. He was so...amusing, clever, a genius, really. But a child. A child, & unlikely to mature without a fuss. She thought briefly about a tutelage, but decided best not. She liked him, but in all honesty, he wasn't really her type. First, she would break him. Second, he had a penis. This was not her chosen gender, as a rule, & not even Sherlock Holmes could make Irene Adler heterosexual. Adorable looks & massive brain power notwithstanding.

When the dominatrix checked into the hotel, she began looking for a flat. She'd need to lay low awhile, but she was fairly certain that Mycroft Holmes wouldn't be bothering with her. His little brother would see to that. Sherlock Holmes had cared for her, that much she was certain of.

:::::::::::::::::::::::::

He saw the text. He saw it, but refused to believe it. Happenstance was an understatement. How could she have resurrected at the same time as Molly bringing her up?

He'd need to tell her, but he was afraid she'd get upset all over again.

Nonsense. No need to hide anything. Molly would understand.

"Morning, Sherlock. Sleep well?" She had just entered the kitchen & was about to get herself some coffee.

"Yes...Molly, you aren't going to believe who texted me last evening."

Molly entered the sitting room where Sherlock sat at his laptop.

"No? Who?"

He laughed, "Irene Adler."


	2. Chapter 2

"Molly? Are you alright?"

"Hmm?"

Sherlock moved toward her. She hadn't made any indication that she had heard what he said, let alone understood it & ready to react.

"Sit down, I'll fetch you some water," and he went to the kitchen. Molly did as she was told, her mind moving much too quickly to properly react to what she had just heard. How likely was it that Irene Adler, a name she had never heard before a couple of days ago, suddenly invoked such trepidation, such misery, such nausea as it now did? Not bloody likely. Molly was beginning to think herself ill-used, a puppet in a grand scheme of sorts.

Settle down, Molly, a voice inside of her whispered. You are letting your thoughts run wild, getting the better of you.

"Here," and she was handed a glass of water.

"Thank you," it was the first time she had made much sense.

"Are you...alright, then?"

"Of course I'm alright."

Sherlock looked at her with an expression of doubt. "You haven't said anything about the...text."

"What would you like me to say?"

He sat opposite her in his chair. "How about, isn't that strange? We were only just talking about her," he smiled weakly.

Molly finished the rest of her water, & without looking at him, asked, "Will you answer her?"

He cleared his throat & considered. "No."

Her eyes shot up. "No?"

"No. Better?"

She felt ashamed, but admittedly, relieved. "Well. Ok, then."

Sherlock smiled, got up once more, & went to the bedroom.

Blast. She was silly. She did, in fact, feel so ashamed that she scribbled a note for Sherlock & left without so much as a goodbye. She considered counseling very briefly, but she already knew what the problem was. She thought Sherlock Holmes one of the most handsome of men, & she was mousy with horrific fashion sense. She required a makeover. A new outlook. A fresh start. Different jumpers. True, he loved her, but how much more would he if she were as stunning as she imagined Irene Adler to be?

::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::

The flat Irene chose was lovely. She had contacted some of her former clients, & they were thrilled to receive news of her return. She purchased a new phone, some tasteful furniture for her place, & went clothes shopping. She loved to shop. All of those darling ladies trying things on. She would often offer advice to them, always the best of advice, & they would blush & thank her. She hadn't heard from Sherlock Holmes in the week since she had texted him. Perhaps she should call on him. It was what old friends would do. Yes...that is just the thing to do.

Irene Adler stood in front of the full length mirror. The black dress clung to her in a most flattering manner, the heels adding just the right touch to her outfit. She went to sit in from of her mirror, & did up her hair, adding the blood red lipstick to her mouth. It would be fun to see Sherlock. See how he has been the past few years. How he's been spending his time. Perhaps he & John finally shacked up together like a proper couple.

She smiled to herself, swung her long black overcoat on, & glided gracefully out the door.


	3. Chapter 3

Sherlock Holmes knew to expect the dominatrix. He knew she would show up to Baker Street soon, & he knew he wasn't going to attempt to hide it from Molly. He also knew that he wasn't about to bring it up in conversation until she made her appearance.

So, when Irene Adler sauntered into the flat a few weeks later, he hardly bashed an eyelash. Instead, he offered her tea.

"Tea?" She asked. "Is that all you have to say to an old friend? Come, Mr. Holmes. We know one another too well for that, don't you think?"

"What would you like me to offer? I'm fresh out of handcuffs."

She laughed. "Speaking of which...where is your boyfriend? Out doing errands?"

"I don't know what you mean," & he left to see to the kettle.

"Surely you do. John? Did the two of you have a domestic? Did he leave the poor boy all alone?"

Sherlock turned toward her, & leaned against the countertop. He folded his arms & smirked. "Mrs. Hudson likely has biscuits if you're feeling peckish."

"Why won't the boy answer me? You always did shy away from personal questions, though," & she smiled seductively. "Or...perhaps...the two of you never consummated..." she moved toward him. She examined his person carefully, & Sherlock didn't flinch. "No...you have. You've popped your cherry, Mr. Holmes! Well done. But...did he leave you all alone? I can fix that, if you like..." she went over to him & ran her hands up his chest, at that moment, the kettle screamed.

"Kettle's boiled, Miss Adler," he said, turning & pouring out the tea.

"Yes. Thank you," she looked at him crookedly. "Something is different about you..."

At that moment, someone was heard entering 221B.

"Goodness Sherlock. I've had a day..." and Molly walked into the kitchen, seeing a very elegant woman dressed all in black, standing very close to Sherlock. He was handing her a teacup, & when the woman turned toward Molly, her mouth hung agape. Molly's mouth imitated that action.

"You two look ridiculous. Molly, tea?" and he poured her out a cup.

"Well well. Sherlock Holmes. Not so gay after all," Irene said, laughing.

"Sorry? Gay?" Molly found her voice.

"You are adorable. I can see why he likes you."

Sherlock looked at Irene with a disdainful eye. "What do you mean, 'adorable?'"

"Well, look at her. What a marvellous creature," and over she went, circling Molly like a cat ready to pounce.

Molly cleared her throat, & held out her hand. "I'm Molly. Hooper." Nothing from the dominatrix but a crooked smile. "You are...Irene Adler...?"

Irene clapped her hands. "Look! She knows my name! How wonderful," and she began to twirl Molly's ponytail in her fingers. "I like her, Sherlock. She will do very nicely."

"Let go of her hair, & if that's all..." Sherlock began ushering her out of the flat.

"Oh! But Mr. Holmes? No dinner invitation?"

"No. I know perfectly well what your menu consists of, & I'm rather put off by it."

"But Molly might enjoy it..." Irene was being persistent, all the while Sherlock had put her coat on & was closing the door.

"Do keep in touch," he said as she left. He turned to Molly. "Sorry about that."

Molly laughed. "She is lovely, but...strange..."

"She is. Yes. Both." He walked over toward her. "But you see...you have nothing to worry yourself over."

No. Nothing...however, Irene might be useful to Molly in a way she hadn't anticipated.


	4. Chapter 4

Molly was sitting at her desk, looking at The Woman's website. Well. She was something. She could well believe Sherlock finding her attractive. Molly found her so. In fact, had she been gay, she might be in trouble. As it stood, however, she was merely mesmerised by her style, her confidence.

It wasn't so much that she was worried any longer about Sherlock up & leaving her for Irene. No...but it took little for Irene to secure his fascination. It took Molly years. If she could somehow harness some of Irene's...Irene-ness...Molly would feel much better about things. She decided to pay the dominatrix a visit. She wasn't scared of her - the way Sherlock had acted, he was afraid she might break her or something. Ridiculous.

::::::::::::::::::::::

She hadn't announced herself or anything. She showed up at Irene's flat in Belgravia, worried but little of any reaction she might inspire. She was no idiot, & since Sherlock wouldn't be there, she thought she could comfortably speak with the dominatrix. She had a suspicion that Irene put on a show for him.

Molly rang the bell. A lovely woman opened the door.

"Do you have an appointment?"

"No. But I'd like to speak with Miss Adler. Is she available?"

The woman smirked & allowed her entry. The place was lovely. Irene must do quite well for herself.

"Wait here," & off she went, leaving Molly alone. She looked about. Art adorned every wall. The place had a scent to it...she couldn't place it...

"Well. Miss Hooper. This is a surprise," Irene walked over to her.

"Molly. Yes, I suppose it must be."

"Why don't we go & sit. Would you like tea? Coffee? Wine?" Insert seductive smirk.

Golly. She really is always "on." Molly swallowed, suddenly painfully aware of what she was about to suggest, & how it would likely be received. "Er...yes. Wine, actually," and she followed Irene to a lovely sitting room. The Woman typed something into her mobile.

They sat opposite one another.

"So...Molly. To what do I owe this pleasure?" And wine was brought by that stunning woman. Must be a maid of sorts.

"Well...I was looking at your website, Miss Adler..."

"Tsk tsk, Molly. What sort of hostess would I be if I were allowing you the dubious pleasure of formalities while I enjoyed familiar conversation? Irene, please."

"Thanks. Irene. Yes...you see...I'm...how to put it..." she sipped her wine. "Hopeless when it comes to style...& grace & such. I've always wanted to tend to this, but well, the opportunity had never presented itself," she finished.

"And you see the opportunity come to fruition now? Via me?"

"Yes, actually."

Irene laughed. "What good fun! Oh, yes," and the dominatrix stood. "Shopping, & a makeover...yes." She looked at Molly with a critical eye. "I always did enjoy a challenge," she purred.

::::::::::::::::::::::::

Molly swallowed hard. They were in an expensive part of town. She considered her accounts, & began to protest to Irene.

"Nonsense. I'll cover it. Consider it a...gift."

In they went. Molly began examining the various ensembles, trying to imagine herself in any of them. Sequins, feathers, lace...none of it seemed like her. She ran her fingers over the clothes. She looked over at Irene speaking to the shop lady. They were sharing a laugh, & then looked at Molly. She blushed, & turned away.

Irene approached. "So...Molly. See anything that tickles your fancy?" And she held up a red, skimpy looking dress, then placed it against Molly's person. It was going to be a long afternoon.


	5. Chapter 5

Her heels were at least 4 inches. They clicked loudly in the pavement as her long strides carried her toward 221 Baker Street. The length of her overcoat was considerable, it swished behind her, her locks bouncing in the current of her pace. Her eyes were fixed, determined. She opened the door & confidently went upstairs.

Sherlock was sitting in his chair, awaiting her arrival. She went directly to him, stood in front of him, & dropped her coat. She had on a lacy neglige that betrayed her erect nipples, her panting bosom, sweat beginning to pearl in anticipation. She straddled him, & kissed him deeply, her tongue, she swore, touching his tonsils. She soon felt his erection against her thigh, & with that announcement, got up, pulling him with her. She led him to the bedroom. She pushed him to the bed. Out of nowhere she produced a pair of handcuffs & secured his wrists to the headboard. Tearing his trousers from him, she mounted him & rode him slowly at first...until he almost came. She stopped, kissed him, then allowed him to climax. With that, she unlocked him & left the flat.

::::::::::::::::::::::

"Molly?" Irene had been talking to the pathologist, but all she could discern from her countenance was a very slight grin.

"Hmmm?" She was coming out of her reverie, & blushed slightly. "Sorry. What were you saying?"

Molly & Irene had spent the day shopping, buying clothes (some of which Molly liked very much, some she thought she would take back), lingerie (most of which Molly would never be putting on); they consulted with a makeup expert, had her hair done (it didn't look that much different, really. Shorter with layers), & was now enjoying dinner with a dominatrix. Lovely day.

She was, admittedly, finding it difficult to concentrate. Distracted by sex fantasies & how her new wardrobe & makeup might work into her sex life with Sherlock, Molly was usually only half listening to Irene, who had proven to be quite verbose.

She found Irene to be rather pleasant, once you got past the constant innuendos & the near-constant physical contact. It seemed she was insatiable in that regard - brushing against Molly, touching her arm, running her fingers through her hair. Molly thought she was a few small steps away from humping her leg. Other than that, Irene was funny, intelligent, & a bit of a misfit. Not unlike Sherlock, really, which gave her mind ease. Molly was much more like John (& as Irene had observed, the only thing keeping the two of them apart was John's heterosexuality). Though Molly was certain that even if Sherlock was bisexual, he would be attracted to Molly.

So they ate, drank, finished dinner, & headed back to Irene's flat.

"So...when will you be seeing Sherlock? This evening?"

"Ah...maybe. Probably tomorrow."

"Maybe? Probably? My dear Molly. Allow me to advise you. Go home, do yourself up, & get to Baker Street. He won't know what to do with himself," and she laughed.

"No," Molly returned, smiling. As much as she wanted Irene's confidence, her style, her flawless beauty, she needed to remind herself that she was not that person. She was merely attempting to not be such a disaster, & hoped that Sherlock would recognise that.


	6. Chapter 6

Mycroft Holmes was fiddling with his coat when he heard the text. Sighing, he dug out his mobile, & read his latest message from his brother.  
Please do come to Baker Street  
-S  
Damn. Again, Sherlock?  
He arrived to find his brother surrounded by books at the kitchen table.  
"Researching the old fashioned way, brother?"  
"Hello Mycroft," he said without looking up. "Have a seat," and he kicked out the chair next to him.  
"Well. You wished to see me?"  
He finally looked up. "Irene Adler has returned."  
Mycroft was rendered speechless.  
"Yes," continued the younger Holmes. "And she's adversely effecting Molly."  
"Tell me, Sherlock. How is it that Miss Adler is here? Alive?"  
"I ensured it."  
"Why?"  
He sat back in his chair. "I don't know, exactly. I...thought it was better if she was alive. I still do. Other than that, I cannot account for it."  
Mycroft said nothing. He knew that his brother had been attracted to the dominatrix. He had seen it plain as day. However, he also knew that Sherlock was in love with Molly, & that was no small thing.  
Sherlock got up. "She's causing her worry. I see it in her face. I don't like it."  
"Then you'll need to reassure her."  
"But that's just it...I've done that. I have done it, & it doesn't seem to matter..."  
Mycroft considered the books on the table. Freud. Jung. Skinner. Browning. Shakespeare. "What is this, Sherlock? Are you attempting to figure Molly out via outdated psychological jargon?" And he looked again, "But the poetry..."  
"I thought that, perhaps she had some trauma as a child that rendered her paralyzed by insecurities, then I thought perhaps she would appreciate more words of admiration..."  
Mycroft laughed.  
"What?"  
"This is a journey Molly may need to have on her own. If she feels unattractive, there's not much you can do, save assuring her again that that isn't the case."  
"But why? Why can't I fix it! There must be a formula..." He ran his hand through his hair.  
"Sherlock, it warms my heart, truly, to see you so invested in another person. It's endearing, really. However, Molly Hooper, no matter how much you love her, still has faults & issues that will not be solved simply by you trying harder. Though I know her but little, she seems to me to be rather unsure of herself. Her wardrobe alone speaks volumes."  
Sherlock gave a face of assent.  
"Yes...so...there's that. You must help her to see past all that. Though you should be aware that your regard alone will likely not cure her of her self image problems. She will need to feel that way herself, about herself, & then, perhaps, her view will change."  
"How irksome."  
"Quite."  
Sherlock sighed heavily. "Brandy, Mycroft? I have some, if you like."  
"That would be lovely," and he smiled. "Where do you keep Scrabble? I haven't played that in ages..."


	7. Chapter 7

When Molly got home, she texted Sherlock. She hadn't seen him since the night before last, & she thought it was the perfect opportunity to show off her new wardrobe.

Yes. He was free. No case on.

Molly laid out the pretty lingerie. Should she wear it under her clothes, or change into them? Wear underneath, that way, the mood wouldn't be spoiled.

She applied her makeup, adding a generous amount of red lipstick (not quite so blood red as Irene's, but pretty damn red nonetheless).

Looking at herself in the glass, she realized that yes, this did work for her - sporting some jeans to enhance her bottom, a pretty pink top with a low neckline, & her old parka (she wouldn't part with it despite Irene's objections, it was practical, & she liked it). Her hair was pulled back, but Molly let a few strands loose to frame her face, as the beautician suggested.

Off she went, into the warm evening, her head held high, feeling confidence wash over her.

:::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::

It can be observed that Sherlock Holmes was more nervous than his approaching girlfriend. He had tidied up a bit, he had showered, purchased some wine, ordered take away, but he still felt ill-at-ease. Why? Because he felt responsible for Molly's current self image. He had chastised her repeatedly over the years, he had ignored her unless convenient, he had prattled away about John, about Mycroft, about cases, Molly listening fervently all the while, & he never bothered to offer her any attention. Well, except if it garnered him privileges or access. Perhaps if he hadn't been such a cock, she would feel better about herself. He had considered what he could do to lessen her anxiety. He had already offered her words (which had worked), & he'd likely be doing that again, but no. He needed to show her how much he adored her, especially her physical beauty. He would need to show her, really show her, & there were but a few ways (after extensive research) how a man can prove his physical admiration of a woman. He would do these things, for Molly. He would risk being made felt like an idiot for her. He would allow his sexual inexperience to shine (for he trusted her above all others), & hope that she would derive at least some enjoyment from it.

So, he paced nervously. He began to drink the wine, hoping it would ease his nerves. He smoked a cigarette, then all but bleached his mouth to rid himself of the taste.

He heard Molly arrive, heard Mrs. Hudson's greeting. He breathed in deeply, & turned towards the door to greet her.

::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::

Molly walked into the flat. Sherlock was standing in the middle of the room, hands in pockets. She smiled at him. He stared at her.

"Sherlock?"

He cleared his throat. "Molly. You look..."

Her heart began to beat wildly. What if he hated it? What if he thought she looked ridiculous? What if she had been wrong all along? Maybe she *was* helpless. But she didn't do this just for him, she reminded herself. She did it to educate herself. To get an expert opinion. She simply didn't have an eye for clothing, had no idea what looked good with what, & wanted to get, well, an idea. She had been a rapt student, & she hoped she hadn't mucked it up. Sherlock was very...stylish...in his own way. He certainly had his own style, & Molly wanted that for herself. Which is why she drew the line when Irene told her she needed a red dress that had about two inches of actual dress.

She smiled hesitantly at her boyfriend.

"Simply lovely," he meant it. She really did. It was Molly, through & through, but...a bit more...elegant? Something.

He motioned for her to sit, handed her some wine, & they began their evening.


	8. Chapter 8

It was after dinner had progressed in a lovely manner, after candles were nearly out (for they had chatted for quite some time), after pleasantries concerning their days had been exchanged, in truth, after everything that made them seem quite normal had already passed, that Sherlock decided to broach the subject. Delicately.

They were sitting next to one another in the sofa.

"Molly..."

She set her glass down. "Hmm?"

"I...you do know...you fully realize...just how much you are to me...?"

Molly swallowed. Of course she did. "Yes. I think so."

"Good. Good," and his glass found its way to the table as well. He turned toward her slightly. "Then you must know that it pained me greatly to see you cavorting around with Irene Adler...trying to do whatever it was you were attempting to do..."

"But...I...I was only trying to...you know...discover what looked good on me...how better to do my makeup...my hair..."

Sherlock frowned. "But why?"

She sighed heavily. She hasn't expected this interrogation. She thought if he liked it, he'd compliment her, if he didn't, he'd let her know. "Because. Well, two reasons, actually," she moved a bit to gain a better look at him. "Firstly, because I've never had anyone tell me how to dress. I've only ever concentrated on the utility of it, but there's more to it than that. What you wear changes people's perception of you...it can make you look confident, when you're unsure...smart, when you feel silly...pretty...when...when..." she gulped. Her eyes fell. "Pretty when your boyfriend is devastatingly handsome & he knows how to dress & you want to feel like you can dress too & everyone won't think, 'Blimey. What's HE doing with HER?'"

He took her hand. "Is that what you think happens? Is that how you see yourself?"

"No...well, sometimes. I don't care all that much. But I want you to be proud. I mean...if you were with someone like Irene, you wouldn't NEED to explain..."

He stood up immediately. "What?!" His voice bellowed & sounded much like a gong ringing out. He wrung his long-fingered hands. Ran them through his hair. Began to pace & then began to rummage for his cigarettes. He found them, lit one & then lit one for Molly. She obliged him by taking it & inhaling deeply. Her nerves were frayed. His reaction was alarming.

"For gods sake Molly. I'm with you because I want to be with you. Do you think for one moment that I couldn't have had Irene Adler if I wanted her?" His voice then dropped slightly. "Of course, I never would've, & she would've tired of me quickly..." he waved his hands about in irritated dismissal. "Almost as quickly as I'd've tired of her," and he looked up at Molly. "But I didn't want her. I never wanted her for anything more than...well...less than she offered..." he finished awkwardly.

"I know you liked her," Molly's voice was barely a whisper. "I like her..."

He inhaled the nicotine, staring at her intently. She was his current puzzle, & he needed to tread lightly. "I don't give a damn what people think of me, Molly." He extinguished the cigarette, & pulled John's chair to the sofa so that he was looking directly at her. This would be difficult. "You say you don't care. I expect...I expect you may have had a similar childhood experience as I." She wasn't looking at him. "I recall...I was always the most clever in he room. Well, except when Mycroft is present," her eyes shot up. "It's true. He's much more intelligent than I. But I'll never repeat that, & I'll deny it if you mention it." He smiled. "At any rate...I was...how to put it...isolated. No one paid much attention to me at school. Even the instructors were annoyed with me. I...told myself I didn't mind the isolation...that no one would ever be able to relate to me...challenge me...save my brother..." He paused & swallowed. "I was alone. Utterly," he took a sip of wine. "And so it was all throughout university. It was shortly thereafter that I discovered heroin. I didn't feel...alone. Indeed," he laughed a bit. "I didn't feel much of anything at all. And that was what was so intoxicating...attractive...I didn't feel..." He looked at Molly now, & his eyes were wet. "I feel deeply, Molly. I am affected. I attempt to subvert that nasty trait, but it seldom works. People mistake me often...believing that because I don't react normally to situations, that I'm heartless. Nothing could be further from the truth...it's merely a result of forced isolation..." He swallowed his tears. "And I learned then that precious few people matter to me. Those people, I mean to keep close...as for those morons, I couldn't have cared less, in the end," he paused. "I believe that you may have had a similar experience. That you...may have felt keen isolation..." She nodded, her own tears flowing freely now. "And John Watson saved me from that. He saved me from being a hopeless addict...and you saved me, Molly. You saved me from myself," he stood. "And I can save you."

He took her hand, & guided her to her feet, led her to the bedroom.

He pushed her very slightly to the bed, & kissed her mouth softly. He worked his way down her body, undoing her jeans, cupping her breasts...he pulled down her jeans, & saw the lacy panties. "Molly...what on earth?"

"Oh!" She blushed. "Oh...please don't mind those..."

"Hardly a challenge..." And they were quickly discarded.

His mouth moved toward her sex, & Molly's head shot up. He had never performed oral sex on her...it was something she thought would come a bit later (no pun intended), something that...well...many men (in her experience) were hesitant to do. But Sherlock didn't seem to mind..."Sherlock! What are you...?" Unable to finish...she groaned.

"I'm worshipping your body..." His voice was clear, & then gone.

He was worshipping her. How delightful. Molly smiled & succumbed to the pleasure he was giving her...the selfless act he was performing for only her.

::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::

After many hours of making love, of laughing, of Molly crying at her silliness...the following conversation was had:

"You worship me?" Molly was tracing circles on his chest.

"In a manner of speaking..."

"Which manner is that?"

"Whichever ensures your happiness."

She laughed. "You can be sweet when you want."

"Hmmm," he nodded, his eyes closed. "Molly?"

"Yes?"

"What was the other reason for you changing your wardrobe with Irene?"

"Well...I thought it might be fun, for a change."

"What might be fun?"

"Spending time with a dominatrix."

His eyes shot open. "What?"

"What? She's delightful. In her own way..."

"Stay away from her. If you call her delightful to her face, she will have you naked & hanging upside down in some sex dungeon..." His voice trailed. "You know, Mrs. Hudson isn't currently using the basement flat..."


	9. Chapter 9

Sherlock Holmes was deeply in love with Molly Hooper, this cannot be denied, indeed, it was hardly debatable. He thought about this indisputable fact during breakfast the following morning. He was reading the Times, Molly had her nose in a book. He thought about what it might mean to spend every morning thus, the tranquility of it, how it was not, in any way, boring, as he had expected it might be. Yes. She was a balm to his person. She gave him happiness. She would need to not be anywhere else but here, with him. It was decided.

"And what are you reading?" He began.

She looked up. "I found a copy of 'Jane Eyre' on your shelves. I haven't read it in ages, so I thought I might...reread it."

"You read books more than once?"

"Sometimes. If it's good enough," she replied smilingly.

"And are you able to glean anything further with a second reading?"

"Well...it's more...like I've changed, so the book changes."

He considered this. "Yes. Just so..." Perfect segue. "Molly...I've been thinking...I've changed," he smiled at her. She returned it. "Yes. And the thing of it is, is I'd rather have you become a more permanent part of my life. Have you...around..." He looked down a bit, & fiddled with the paper, closing it up. "Around, in a more physical way. Do you understand?"

Molly swallowed hard. There were really only two possibilities here. Either he was asking her to move in with him, or proposing marriage. If she guessed wrongly, it might mean a very embarrassing few moments for the both of them. So...how does she ask to clarify?

"I think so..."

"Good," & he smiled, drank some more coffee, & resumed reading the papers.

"Uh...Sherlock?"

"Hmmm?"

"What did I just agree to?"

"You mean...you didn't understand me?"

She laughed a bit. "Well...I mean...there are only two possibilities, right?"

"Two?" He considered what she meant. Ah...she thought he might be proposing marriage. Well...that was a bit...but then...why not? "I think, Molly, that it would be brilliant if you moved in here, with the eventuality being that we will marry." And returned to the paper.

"Oh," replied she. Her phone rang out a receipt of text. She checked it. She giggled. Sherlock looked up. She responded to the text.

"Who was that?"

"Irene."

He sighed. "Molly...I thought we discussed this. You shouldn't bother yourself with her."

"Well...she's coming for breakfast."

"She's what?"

"She's on her way."

Good god.

:::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::

He was coaching her as they sat in the sitting room.

"Sherlock...I spent an entire day with her! I'm not a child. I can handle her...she's not that bad."

He wasn't convinced. He knew Irene Adler, & he was irritatingly protective of Molly. Well, he found it irritating.

He heard her downstairs. He sighed. In she walked, looking as stunning as ever.

"Good morning, lovelies. How are we this morning?" And she went to the kitchen to obtain coffee.

"Hi Irene," Molly got up. "We were just finishing, but I can make some eggs or something, if you like."

"Coffee is fine," she purred. "Well Molly. You look positively radiant. Did Sherlock give you a night, then?"

"As lovely as it always is, Irene, Molly & I have rather a lot to be getting on with...and I'm quite certain that you have your own...clients...to...attend to?" Sherlock was standing in the kitchen doorway, looking smug.

"No. Haven't one thing going on today. I was merely looking forward to seeing my new chum, Molly," she smiled at her "chum."

"Chum?" Molly asked. "Well...let's sit, then, shall we?"

::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::

Sherlock was at his computer, answering tiresome emails while the women giggled & droned on about god knows what. He observed the time. Half past one. Enough.

"Molly. I think we need to get going."

"We do?"

"Yes. Immediately."

Irene stood. "Always lovely, Molly. I should be going, too." The dominatrix put her coat on, & gave Molly a hug. "You are delicious, dear," she stood back to observe her more fully. "So...innocent, so...pure in such a naughty way..."

Molly blushed & stood away from her. "We will need to do this again sometime," she said.

"Of course! Yes..." And she winked at Sherlock as she glided out the door.


	10. Chapter 10

Molly Hooper was a touch reluctant to move in with her boyfriend, but she couldn't seem to discern the why. She loved him, he loved her. She spent a great amount of time at Baker Street. Was it Toby? Was her own flat more comfortable? Her self esteem certainly wasn't a factor any longer. Sherlock had helped her move past all that, & they were in the throws of love & bliss.

While she did take Sherlock's warnings concerning Irene Adler seriously, she believed he was being too protective, & it did upset her somewhat. She was, after all, a grown up. Why didn't he give her the benefit of the doubt?

She decided to give Irene a call. What harm could it do, really?

:::::::::::::::::::::::::::::

They were sitting in a posh cafe, Irene as stunning as ever, Molly looking very smart in a pretty black top & a long brown skirt. Her hair was pulled on top of her head, bits of hair hanging down the side of her face.

"I've prattled on long enough, Molly. How are things with Sherlock?"

"Good. Great, actually," she paused. "I've been thinking...maybe I should just move there. To Baker Street. I spend a very good amount of time there anyway..." She waited for Irene's reaction.

"Well! That is news. Do you think you will?"

"I ... I dunno. Maybe. Would you?"

Irene's face was unreadable. "Would I? No. Would I if I were you? Probably. But...do you love him, then?"

"Of course."

"Yes. Well then, why don't you?"

Molly wasn't sure how to answer. "I...I suppose I will." Still the reluctance in her voice. Why?

::::::::::::::::::::::

"Sherlock?"

"Hmmm?" He was answering an email to an elderly lady whose cat had gone missing.

"I've been thinking...it's been nearly two weeks since you mentioned my moving in. Maybe we could try this weekend...I'm off..."

His eyes shot up. "Really?"

"Yes. Really," she laughed.

"Wonderful! I'll text Mycroft & John," he took out his mobile & began typing into it.

"Why Mycroft?"

"Why not? He likely knows of someone or something to ease the irritation of moving..."

Molly giggled. "You mean movers?"

"Is that the name?"

"Usually, yes."

He considered as he put the phone down. "Well. That's a rather convenient name."

"Yes. It's nice how these things work."

:::::::::::::::::::::::::::

Molly had left for St. Bart's & Sherlock was arranging time for John & Mary to help within the move. He heard Mrs. Hudson talking to someone downstairs. It took a second, but he soon realized she was talking with The Woman.

"Molly isn't here, Miss Adler. Go find another person to pester," he said as she entered the flat.

"Oh, Mr. Holmes...why can't we be friends? Honestly, I mean no harm...well, none that you wouldn't enjoy..." she said, sauntering into the kitchen.

"What do you want?" He hadn't looked up from his phone.

"Tea. Fancy some?"

"No...and you know quite well what I'm referring to. Why are you here?"

Irene returned to the sitting room & sat opposite Sherlock. "I was just in the neighborhood, thought I'd stop to see if the happy couple was enjoying domestic bliss...as...more permanent flat mates?"

Sherlock hadn't expected Molly to have confided in Irene as she obviously had, but he would reflect on that later. "She hasn't moved in yet."

"No? But she will?"

"Why do you care?"

She smirked as the kettle screamed. " I have my reasons, Mr. Holmes."

He stood up & followed her. "How can I make this more plain? I've rebuffed your advances, many times, I'm moving in with another person...I have no sexual interest in you, Irene."

The dominatrix handed him his tea, none for her. "What makes you think I have sexual interest in you, Sherlock?" And with that, she left.


	11. Chapter 11

Of course he had been ridiculous. He saw that now. Irene was gay, after all, & if she had any designs on Sherlock, it would have been brief & utterly meaningless, for one simply cannot "turn heterosexual," just like one cannot "turn homosexual." Was Molly in danger? Probably not. Was their relationship in danger? Not likely. He should merely remind Molly that it wasn't a good idea to continue on in this manner & let her be. She was an adult, after all. He thought about Molly's childhood, her isolation...he decided that he should ask her himself about it, for truly, he knew embarrassingly little about the woman whom he loved so dearly. Molly walked into 221B, trying to envision doing this every day, & what it would be like to call it home. She spotted Sherlock sitting in his chair, holding a volume, looking at the door as she entered. "Hi, Sherlock. How was your day, then?" "Fine," his deep baritone rung out. Molly sensed something in his voice as she mucked about in the kitchen fixing the kettle. It was late, & she had had a long day. "I'm exhausted, ridiculous amount of work, none of it interesting." "No? What a shame...I had a visitor...& she was definitely interesting," he paused. "Well, what she said was..." "Oh?" Molly's curiosity was piqued. She entered with two cups of tea, handed one to Sherlock, then noticed the volume was her journal. "Sherlock...that's my...my..." "Diary, yes," & he set it down on the table next to him. "I haven't read it, I rather thought..." he cleared his throat. "I thought that perhaps you might want to divulge its contents to me, since I have been doing all of the soul baring as of late." Molly swallowed. "Oh," she said. She owed him this. Of course she did.

:::::::::::::::::::::

Molly's childhood had been rather uneventful. She was absurdly close with her dad, her mum...well, she was tough. Her mum was rather closed off, she was always prattling away about something or other. Molly would escape into their modest garden with a book, or to plant with her dad. She was an accomplished student, finding the subjects in primary school alarmingly easy. When Molly was nine, her parents told her she would have a brother or sister to play with. Play? Molly was almost ten. How could she play with an infant? She smiled sweetly, nodded, noticed a tired look on her dad's face, & went to see to homework. Her sister Jane was born that summer, & Molly was the live-in babysitter. While she loved caring for Jane, she longed to retrieve her freedom, her books, her garden, since she had no close friends. Her mum would chastise her for being odd, so why not help & care for her sister? Why indeed. Her dad said little to her mum, not wanting to stir things. And so went her life through middle school. Molly took care of Jane, saw to her studies, her mum took care of the house, & her dad retreated further into himself. Secondary school presented itself with her first real friend, Beth. Beth was very like Molly, & with Jane in school, she could see to a social life. Molly & Beth were inseparable throughout the first two years, but when Beth moved to Dorset, Molly was alone again. She wasn't picked on, or made to feel badly...more just...ignored. Like a shadow. Or a ghost. When Molly graduated with highest honours, she felt, for the first time in her life, like she had accomplished something. She recalled seeing her dad at the restaurant her mum had insisted they go to; he was sad, but still smiling. He told her to go off & learn. He told her to fall in love. He told her he was proud. He looked at his wife & Jane, & a solitary tear trickled down his face. Molly did as she was told. She learned loads. She made some friends. She fell in love, sort of. She had sex, even with a girl, once. She graduated once more with honours & obtained a residence at St. Bart's. That's when the call came. Molly's dad was sick. Very. She went home, & her mum was a-flutter, calling everyone. Jane was in her room. Molly spent two months caring for her dad, quelling her mum's outbursts, & trying to get Jane to talk. Her dad tried to behave like everything was fine. He tried...he succeeded, except where Molly was concerned. She saw him. He told her that he loved her more than anything. That he was sorry her mum was such a pain. That Jane was as much about saving their marriage as it was about giving her a sibling. She had smiled at him, kissed his cheek. The next morning, he was dead. Molly never wanted to see her mum or sister again, but she realised that would do no good. She returned to Bart's, feeling as though her world had suddenly imploded. That's when she met Sherlock Holmes. Although she was attracted to him almost immediately, she recognised him as a complete prat. She was embarrassed around him, but longed for male companionship after her beloved dad had so recently passed. She followed him, tried to ask him out, but mostly, obsessed over him. Whether she obsessed more about having sex with him or convincing herself to forget him, she couldn't say. He had waltzed into her life at a most tender time, & no other man seemed to excite her the way he did. While he wasn't abusive, he certainly wasn't kind (Sherlock winced at this), so when he asked her to help him fake his suicide, she was circumspect. She obliged, of course. But she reminded herself that this needed to stop. So she became engaged to Tom Higgins. She wanted to move on. She wanted to forget Sherlock Holmes. She wanted to stop being lonely. It didn't work. In fact, it failed...miserably. Molly was in love with the great idiot, nothing to be done about it. So she regained her composure around him (for surely he would never reciprocate), & suffered silently. Until, one lovely day, he confessed that he loved her. Unbelievably, he loved her. Inexplicably, he loved her. And Molly thought of her dad. He had wanted her to love. But Molly was unsure - how could her dreams suddenly be realised? Surely he didn't mean it. Yet over & over, he told her that he did. Then Irene happened. Irene, who was beautiful. Irene, who was sexy. She came to symbolise everything that Molly wasn't; and not in her relationship with Sherlock, but in the fact that Molly was never really accepted. She had had but one true friend, Beth. None of her peers had ever accepted her, & although it hadn't bothered her really, seeing Irene gave her pause. She longed to be like her - confident, graceful, sexy. And when Sherlock asked her to move into Baker Street, despite his reassurance, she honestly felt like perhaps she hadn't grown enough. Her experiences too limited. Her views too juvenile.

"What I hadn't considered, is, having been alone for so long, is that we can grow together."


	12. Chapter 12

It was to be a rather simple affair, just a few people; Molly had insisted on inviting Irene, despite Sherlock's objections.

"It's just a housewarming party, Sherlock. And I like her. She's nice."

"She's nothing of the sort," he returned.

And so it went for the week prior to the party. The flat was ready, Molly had cooked, & wine was flowing. They were all gathered in the sitting room, Mycroft & Irene being the odd ones out, but Sherlock felt more warmly toward his brother.

"It was good of you, Sherlock, to extend me an invitation," said the elder Holmes, sipping his wine.

"To be sure, I hesitated a touch, not knowing fully if you'd behave yourself."

"I always behave myself."

"What a shame! But I can rectify that, if you like...Mr. Holmes," the dominatrix waltzed over, a sly grin on her face, looking fixedly at Mycroft.

Sherlock laughed. "Best watch out, Mycroft...but you know, I think this might be fun," he turned toward Irene. "What do you think of my brother, Irene? What antidote would suffice?"

Mycroft scowled at Sherlock. "Are you serious, Sherlock? A dominatrix? An antidote? How perfectly laughable."

Irene flashed a crooked smile. "Nervous, Mr. Holmes? Don't worry...I won't break you on our first go..." And she caressed his arm with her fingers, sliding her body flush with his own. Mycroft remained impassive, & looked down his nose at her, with a look about his countenance as if he were smelling something that had gone sour.

"Sherlock, kindly remove this person. She's rather off-putting, & might spoil my appetite." Sherlock took Irene's arm.

"That's not likely, is it, Mycroft?" And he turned toward Irene. "Let's find Molly, shall we?" He was laughing once more. Molly was talking with John & Mary, & were sharing a laugh at the prospect of being Sherlock's flat mate.

"But you actually have sex with him Molly...that's...well...sorry. It's just weird," John was feeling tipsy.

"How is that weird, John?" Sherlock & Irene joined them.

John laughed. "Because it's...it's you...& you, well...don't have sex. I guess until now," & he tipped his glass.

"Indeed," replied Sherlock. His glare at John subsided, & he turned his attention to Molly. "Molly, Irene was just making Mycroft uncomfortable, not that I'd mind under normal circumstances, but well...you've made all of that food. I dare say he should consume half...unless Irene ruins his appetite with her advances."

Irene was nonplussed, but happy to be Molly's company. John, Mary, & Sherlock broke away to chat about something with Lestrade & Mycroft, which left the women.

"You look positively radiant," said Irene. "Love & domesticity suits you well."

"Thanks, Irene. And thanks, for all of your help." A faraway look momentarily graced Irene's face, & she looked almost forlorn, as though she had lost something, long ago...

"That shade of red, Molly...a brilliant touch for your lips. I'm certain that Sherlock can't resist claiming them." Molly blushed, & smiled.


End file.
